The Mist of New York
by BeingWhoIWishIWas
Summary: Mist is a typical teenager...or maybe not. She's basically a machine with a human mind. She's got serious secrets and grudges...and the Avengers are not her favorite people. So what happens when she's forced to work with them to save the world? CHAPTER TWO HAS BEEN EDITED!
1. Mist

I got off the subway and set out with a brisk walk, the freezing air stinging my face with little pins and needles. New York is Jack Frost's personal playground in December. I re-wrap my scarf tighter around my neck, and pull my coat a little closer.

The streetlights turn on the moment I pass Stark Tower. Strange things happen around that building, and I've never liked the building's haughty owner much either.

I continue my walk, until I reach the outskirts of the city. The Bird's Nest is quiet. Good, I wasn't expecting any visitors, and I'm far too exhausted to fight any rascals off at the moment. I come to a stop at the old ruin of a building I call the Bird's Nest. My home for the last few years. It's falling apart, the fire escape is rusting so badly that the actual stairs fell to the street long ago and the door so smashed in that it doesn't open. But it's a work of art. A masterpiece of the street. The entire building is home to more than twenty years of graffiti. The last twenty years of gang disputes, random undiscovered artists unable to afford a canvas and of course, me. The once luxurious hotel is now covered in graffiti in a sort of gradient. The paint is thick, overlapping and dense at the bottom, as you look further up, there is less and less paint.

I slide my bag's strap off my shoulder and into my hand. I swing it high, over my head and then suddenly let it go. It flies through the broken window on the fifth floor without so much as a thread catching on the sharp shards of glass.

I swing my arms back and forth, warming up my frozen muscles briefly. I crouch down and spring up, launching my small self up, attacking myself to the old fire escape. I swing on the metal, then let go, and attach to another part of the structure, until I reach my floor. I swing through the window, twisting so I don't get run through with the shattered glass.

The room is large, a penthouse from the eighties, and furnished accordingly though many of the items are worn and moth-eaten. I flip the switch by the door and the light reluctantly flickers on, as if hesitant to awaken. The theme is blue. The entire room is different shades of blue, there's navy drapes, teal wallpaper, sky-colored tile in the bathroom. I pick my bag off the floor and hang the strap over a wooden chair. I flick my hand towards the TV and it turns to the news.

It's ten o'clock and that idiot Stark is still all over the media. The news can't get enough of the Avengers, and he's the only one with an identity they know, a doorbell they can ring over and over again in an incessant attempt for information. They've been doing it for the last 15 years.

The Avengers are heroes, right? But then they disappear. They don't help the random kid in the street being beat up for the five dollars in his pocket. Only the rich and important get help form the 'heroes'.

Guess who the rest of the responsibility falls to?

I slip on my suit, which is basically a tunic with leggings and my favorite boots, (not the glamorous things that spies wear, they're work boots and they're not something you want to hit you in the face.)

Oh yeah, and the entire thing is packed with my stuff, and my stuff can range from C4 to miniature cameras.

But I don't need them often.

I slip out the window again, this time climbing to the roof. I sit in my perch for a while, content.

But since when does peace last more than a second in New York?

I skid down the roof silently, despite the broken and unstable structure. The night air is silent, and the fog seems to engulf the area in a thick blanket.

I hear quiet footsteps and freeze, listening.

A small person (though still probably bigger than me), but carrying something.

I slip behind the wall, barely breathing.

The person comes around the corner and stops suddenly. He's seen me? That hasn't happened since I was ten, so that can't be it.

"Who's there?" He says his fists clenched. He's itching for a fight, though I have no idea why.

"I said, Who's there?!" He repeats, letting the bag fall off his shoulder, onto the damp street. Then, his eyes flick directly over my hiding place in the shadows, directly at my eyes.

I stop breathing, my eyes sharpen and I tense up completely.

He _noticed_ me.

He saw me from the second he turned the corner, but noticing is something different, noticing means that he's read me as I read him when I heard his footsteps, he's analyzing whether or not I'm a threat.

The guy's small-ish compared to some of the guys I've beaten up, but he looks trained and muscular, and he keeps his face in the shadows where I can't see. But most importantly, the fact that he analyzes before attacks shows that he's smart.

"Friend or foe?" He asks suspiciously.

"Depends on who you are."

"So you don't know?"

"No. Am I supposed to?" I say honestly.

He shrugs "You don't seem like much of a threat."

"I get that a lot. Most who say that end up very…unhappy."

"Would you happen to be the Mist of New York?" He asks me bluntly.

"hm. Am I?" I say, not particularly caring if he figured out who I am.

"I dunno, I haven't seen you fight."

"Well good for you, then." I say with a bored tone.

He raises an eyebrow, "So if I turn my back you're gonna try to knock me out?"

"Not at all."

"But Mist doesn't like people knowing about her.."

"Did Mist tell you that?"

"No, but…"

"As a general rule regarding Mist, anything that she doesn't tell you about herself, is more likely than not, a flat out lie." I feel ridiculously uneducated referring to myself in third person.

"So you don't care?" He says carefully, deciding that I am Mist.

"Not one bit."

"Great."

He picks up his bag and turns around, continuing on his walk. He looks back once, but I've re-hidden myself. He shakes his head and continues.

He stops suddenly. And says without turning around, "My name's Jason Stark, in case you were wondering."

The gears in my head start spinning. Why was the son of a millionaire wandering around in the bad part of New York? What was he carrying? Why did he trust me with his name?

Strange.

I fiddle with my fingers, allowing a bit to come off. It turns to a metal-like substance and my finger regenerates without problem. I am basically metal. A machine with a human mind. I have liquid metal as blood, solid metal as bone and yet I function like a regular human. I am metal; I control metal, and anything involving metal or metalloids.

Absorb the metal back in and continue my nightly watch.

The Mist that protects the farthest corners of New York.


	2. Jason Stark (Chapter edited!)

THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN EDITED!

* * *

My eyes flutter open, adjusting to the light in my room, and remember the night immediately. It was relatively quiet after that little encounter with Jason Stark.

I roll out of bed and get ready for school. I hate school, everything's messed up there. No one actually gets any sort of education, we just sit and "be disciplined" which is a total waste of my day, but my parents swanted me too, so I will.

My clothes for school consist of dressing in a t-shirt, jeans and my boots. There's a uniform, but no one gives a care, we'll be chastised whether or not we wear uniform. I throw on my jacket and scarf and grab a little pack of trail mix for later.

I toss my bag out the window and follow it noiselessly. I sling my bag over my shoulder and start walking towards the school, a thin blanket of snow crunching under my feet.

The old-fashioned architecture of the school dominates the street, its tall and looming, making all the other buildings shrink and cower.

I barely notice it anymore.

I walk a bit slower, taking in the quiet street. A few other students are hanging out in the coffee shop, and few more behind a dumpster. I just continue on, nothing's out of place.

Except a sleek, luxurious, expensive-looking black car pulled over on the curb directly in front of the school.

I continue to the school, acting ignorant and nonchalant about the car as I swing open the front doors and go to sit in the auditorium as I always do before the bell rings for first period.

I set my bag down and stare at the cover of my textbook, keeping my ears open for gossip about the wealthy visitor.

No ones talking about it, apparently they've heard no rumors.

I continue to stare at my textbook as the auditorium fills up, but no one sits next to me. People here don't like me much.

I start daydreaming and am pretty out of it until someone sits down next to me.

My head immediately whips up to look at who's stupid (or simply oblivious) enough to sit next to me.

Jason Stark.

Since when does he go here?

I almost freak before realizing - he doesn't know that I'm Mist.

I catch a sigh of relief in my throat.

He gives a distracted half-smile. "Uh, hi. I'm Jason. I'm new."

I raise an eyebrow and reply "One look at you and even an idiot could tell you're new here, no offense"

He reddens but keeps quiet.

Jason suddenly stops studying the floor and says, "I like you're boots, I know a girl with ones just like those."

I force a smile "Thanks." Then I consist of pretending he's not there.

He looks awkwardly everywhere but me.

Or he was until he says, "Hey, could you help me out with my schedule? I don't even know where my first period is."

I nod, "Sure, but after that have your teacher help you out, ok?"

He hands me the sheet of paper and I skim it quickly. How the heck is he in advanced technology and workshop? That class currently has five students in it! You had to go to nationals for your invention in order to get into that class….oh yeah. His dad's Tony Stark. Ugh. And everyone in that class has the same schedule because of that class.

I sigh, annoyed. "We have the exact same schedule."

"You're in Advanced tech?"

"Don't sound so surprised, not all smarts come out of money." I say sounding tired and weary.

He raises an eyebrow at the callous remark and chokes down a retort and just glares at me.

"What's your problem?" He asks sharply.

"You'll get pummeled here, won't last a day without protection. And you're completely ignorant of it. You don't have a place here."

"You speaking from experience?" He says, eyebrows still arched.

"I don't talk about things I know nothing of." I say annoyed.

The bell rings. We stand simultaneously, much to the annoyance of each other and head to class.

Mr. Z is the single strangest teacher on the face of the earth. For example, no one know what "Z" stands for, I think even Z himself may have forgotten.

He _was_ my favorite teacher until today.

His firm voice rings out over all five_six _students in the large classroom.

"Mister Jason Stark is new to this school as of today. Would anyone like to show him around for today?"

His eyebrow rises from under his spectacles (he refuses to call them glasses) at us, "No takers?"

No one moves. In this class, everyone is fiercely independent, extras slow us down. Or at least, that's what we tell ourselves.

Jason Stark's standing at the front of the class and is beginning to fidget.

We're ignoring him, he has no say in who gets stuck with him for the day.

All of us start arguing the five and Z, lots of yelling and pointing.

Finally, Z throws his hands up. "FINE!"

We all shut our faces.

He points to me "Kat! You can take him around today."

I groan, but keep my glare to myself.

Z points to the seat in between Anna and me. Stark grumbles but complies, he's not happy about this arrangement either.

He plops his backpack down and class begins.

Z's class is erratic and interesting as always but short. The bell rings all to soon and I leave the class faster than a rabbit with a coyote on its tail. I weave quickly through the mob hoping to loose Jason in the chaos.

He jogs up to me by my locker. "You're supposed to be helping me."

I shut my locker and scramble the code. Then turn towards him. "All right then, Tip number one, if you can't keep up with me then you're going downhill fast. Tip number two, try not to make anyone mad. We're all stronger or faster than you. Learn to brush off insults."

"You never do" he says annoyed as we race through the hallway.

"I'm a separate case all together"

"So you're super tough or something." There's a mocking tone in his voice that I don't appreciate. He's amused that someone as small as me is regarded as dangerous.

"Not at all."

Amusement thick in his voice he says, "Only Mist can pull of the small and deadly masquerade, you're gonna get killed if you keep it up. Mist won't like impersonators."

"You say that like you know her."

"Not well. We accidentally met, I'm surprised I escaped with my head," He jokes dryly.

I raise an eyebrow. "Come on, let's get to class."

He shrugs.

The first half of the day goes smoothly (we didn't murder each other), or at least as smooth as it can considering the circumstances.

The bell rings for lunch.

I go sit with Anna and Ellie. Jason following me. I whirl around and snap, "What?"

He shrugs, "I have no where to sit."

Ellie grins and colors when she sees Stark. "He can sit with us!" She squeaks.

I roll my eyes and sit down across from Anna,who is as skeptical as I am about Jason Stark.

"Why is he here?" Anna says not caring if Stark over hears. "SHouldn't he be at some private school for the kids of geniuses?"

"No idea" I say picking at my food.

"How'd he get into Z's class?" She ponders.

"Tony Stark." I state bluntly.

She nods, then falls into thought.

Jason looks over at us from his spot next to Ellie and asks her a little too loudly, "What's their problem?"

She giggles and consists of spilling all she knows about me and Anna's lives since we were five.

Which thankfully isn't much.

Ellie has started going on and on about the graffiti that encases my house.

"A bunch of us are going to black out the 'art' all her precious paint's going to be covered up." Ellie whispers just a little too loudly, but not loudly enough so I could clearly hear what she said.

I stand up suddenly about to explode.

Anna pulled my arm a little bit but then let go, knowing that it was unsafe to do so.

My anger is building and building and this is about to get worse, but I sit down anyway.

"I'm ok." I say a little too quickly.

Why would they do that? It's just graffiti to them! Why do they care about trying to make me miserable. I wonder how to stop them seeing as I'm not there half the time.

My head its spinning and spinning, I don't have time to worry about this! Why would Ellie do that? We've been friends since we were kids, only this year has she gotten to be like a freaking wannabe popular. I sigh and my anger bubbles away slightly.

Jason approaches me but doesn't say anything on the way to Mrs. Bellan's class.

He looks at me like I'm insane.

"You're not normal are you?" He says, the bluntness shocking me.

"I'd think that'd be obvious by now." I snap.

He raises an eyebrow, "I didn't mean it like that…"

"Look, just don't ok?"

He shrugs, "Fine."

By the time the bell rings for schools end, me and Jason haven't said anything since lunch.

I hurry home, racing through the streets.

Then I stop at the corner where I live.

That is not my home. That's simply not it. I misheard Ellie. She weren't planning, She was gloating.

Tears sting at my eyes. They could have done anything, and I could have brushed it off.

I put my hand to the wall, the black paint's still drying, based on that It's been a good couple hours since it was applied. I hate it.

I throw my bag through the window and prepare to follow it when I hear snickering.

My head whips around to see Ellie and some popular girls attempting to hide, behind the wall of the old ice cream shop.

"Thanks! I needed a new canvas anyways!" I holler at them, a fake cheerfulness tainting my voice as it threatens to crack. I just turn back around and get inside as fast as I can without it looking like I'm running away.

By the time its pitch black outside I am Mist again. I run through my regular routine and rest on my favorite perch, but I feel weighed down. Those now dull walls used to be some of my favorite things to look at, and to add to. It reminded me that people have been just…_different… _for decades.

Jason Stark is hanging around in the same place we met. I drop from the roof softly. He turns towards me.

"So you _do_ come here often." He jokes.

"It's just routine." I say in a lower voice than usual, glad for my simple mask.

"Yeah. So, Mist, why do you patrol New York? This is the Iron City." He says referring to Iron Man and himself.

"Oh, you know, Iron man can't be every where, and he never seems to be on the poor side of New York, or in the alleys or anywhere the regular people suffer." I say, a razor edge to my voice.

Jason grinds his teeth, "Are you saying we don't do a good enough job?"

"Actually I'm saying you don't do it period." My anger about all of today and the graffiti is spreading to everything I say and do.

He clenches his fists. His backpack grows and I quickly realize it's his suit.

Silverfist, that's what he calls himself.

His suit quickly consumes him and he's fiercely angry.

"Itchin' for a fight, huh?" I say, my eyes narrowing, "Bring it on."


End file.
